


If I Loved You Less

by SyrenGrey



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Based on Emma, Drama, F/M, Feelings Realization, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Jane Austen - Freeform, Lucius as Mr Knightley, Matchmaker Pansy Parkinson, Modern Era, Mutual Pining, Pansy as Emma, Romance, Sassy Pansy Parkinson, Sexual Tension, Slytherins Being Slytherins, Touching, Unresolved Sexual Tension, veritaserum or dare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 08:35:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24468079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SyrenGrey/pseuds/SyrenGrey
Summary: Pansy couldn’t explain how right it felt. The pure certainty that everything in her world seemed to point to him. Her heart beat for the man. She’d descended into a spiral of chaos when he, for the briefest moment, wasn’t hers. His words had seared into her, and his touch—a touch which felt innocent for so long now felt so different, like it was something personal—hers.It made her want nothing more than to give him everything he wanted, and more. To Lucius, her Lucius.Of course.Of course,it was him.-----Smart, stylish, spirited Pansy was the perfect example of what an elegant Pureblooded witch ought to be. With a passion for match-making, she seldom worried about finding love for herself. So why, when Pansy could have any man she wanted, could she not get her dearest friend and closest confidant out of her head?Modern-era story inspired by Jane Austen'sEmma. Written for Fairest of the Rare Spring Fest.
Relationships: Lucius Malfoy/Pansy Parkinson
Comments: 14
Kudos: 35
Collections: Before the Spring Snaps: The Classics





	1. Vanity working on a weak mind produces every kind of mischief.

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [BTSS2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/BTSS2020) collection. 



> **Prompt:**  
>  Emma and Mr. Knightley (Emma)  
> Please note: you do not need to know anything about Jane Austen's Emma to understand or enjoy this fic. 
> 
> Thank you to my incredible Alpha/betas geekiebeekie and weestarmeggie, who keep me sane and are the greatest supports a writer could ask for. And with thanks to Jamethiel who encouraged me to write with more voice, and who liked Pansy as her bitchy self.

•·················•·················•

"Why can't I meddle? Nothing ever happens around here without someone meddling."

Pansy Parkinson raised an impeccably well-groomed brow—thank you, Madame Mimsy—and pouted as she stared at herself, scrutinizing the delicate black dress she'd squeezed into.

"You're only saying that because _you_ meddle, dear. Many things happen without nosey girls playing puppet-master."

Pansy stepped into the antechamber of the fitting room—used primarily for bored husbands and boring friends—and let the curtains swing shut behind her with a dramatic flair.

Pansy fixed Lucius with a look of mock outrage.

" _Puppet Master?_ You wouldn't call Theo and Daphne puppets, would you?"

Lucius' gaze drifted over her form as she crossed the large fitting room and gave herself a look-over in the floor to ceiling mirror.

"They would very much be puppets if they fell for your antics. Afternoon tea, 'just the four of us,' ha." He tapped his fingers on his cane, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Since when do you invite anyone over for afternoon tea? Let alone either of them?"

The dress squeezed her waist in just as it should, but she couldn't decide if the curves of her hips were just sexy enough, or bordering on obscene in this curvaceous silhouette. She caught Lucius' raised brow in the reflection.

He'd improved significantly in keeping his opinions to himself when she hadn't asked for them (something his late-wife did nothing to assuage), but it was another thing to openly invite him free reign to share his opinion. Still, she tapped her foot as she stood there sans Lucius' approval. She didn't dare admit it out loud—he certainly didn't need his ego fed—but the man had an eye for elegance that she'd grown quite reliant upon.

"Well?"

"It's... _sultry_. Flatters your form, but it cheapens your overall appearance. Perhaps if it were for the boudoir—"

"Ugh." Pansy rolled her eyes and Lucius quirked a brow, the lines around his lips belying his amusement. "It's a no, then."

Pansy gave herself another look-over before slipping back behind the lush velvet privacy curtain.

"Though, perhaps it's appropriate attire for the village Matchmaker?"

Pansy scowled. She could hear the smile in his voice. How very rude of him to suggest that she was merely a Matchmaker. She was inspiring _le grand amour_ , fostering inevitable marital bliss, promoting generations of Pureblood descendants! Nothing he'd know about from his detached, mid-forties, wealthy-widower view of the world.

"Excuse me, Theo and Daphne would be so _cute_ together," she said, her movements jerky as she struggled with her wand to undo buttons on the spine of the dress. Her lungs struggled to keep up as she fought her way out of the skin-tight attire. The garment finally fell to the floor and Pansy let out a huff. "If they want to fall in love, who am I to judge?"

And fall in love they would, if Pansy had anything to say about it.

"My problem isn't with you _judging_ , my dear," Lucius said, as Pansy stepped out red-faced and pouting.

"It'll be interesting," she said, her arms folding across her chest.

Lucius gave a small nod as he approached and offered his arm. "Yes, on _that,_ we can agree."

"Another?" Pansy slipped on her black cat-eye sunglasses as they stepped out of the shop, arm-in-arm, and into the north-end street of Knockturn Alley. Her gaze trailed over the glittering windows and all the delicate fineries that were calling her name.

"Aren't we cutting it a bit close?"

"Just one more," Pansy said with an easy nod and a soft squeeze of his forearm. "There's a handbag I spotted in Delvino's that has my name on it."

"It's your tea party we're missing."

Pansy strode forward with a happy bounce, having no trouble ignoring Lucius' eye roll as she tugged him along.

•·················•·················•

"So, Theo, the other day you mentioned you're interested in earning a mastery in Arithmancy?" Pansy smiled behind her teacup as Theo gave a vigorous nod.

"Yes, when I returned from the Alps—"

Pansy let out a high pitched 'Oooh', and Theo beamed at her before continuing.

"Yes, it _was_ quite lovely. Anyway, it dawned on me just how much I had left to learn in the subject of Arithmancy. I got my NEWTs in the subject, you know, and pursuing it would suit my future just fine."

"Where in the Alps—" Lucius started before Pansy cut him off.

"How _lovely_ , Theo, to have ambitions to work. Isn't all that very fascinating, Daphne?"

"Yes, it is," Daphne said with a stiff but polite smile.

Pansy's lips pursed as she watched Lucius let out a deep huff while Daphne stirred her teacup. Daphne may have been beautiful, but she seemed quite hard to please. Pansy's mother had always said that you caught more flies with honey, and it wasn't like the Greengrasses had enough money _or_ social standing to sweeten _that_ particular pill.

"Yes, yes, very fascinating," Pansy said, her gaze darting from Daphne to Theo, "Say, Daphne, isn't your uncle Fleborious Flinch?"

Theo gaped as Daphne gave a short nod.

"Pardon— _the_ Fleborious Flinch? Goodness, my Godfather partnered with him for many years on the enhancement of Time Magic on ageing!"

Daphne clinked her cup loudly against the saucer as she sucked in a sharp breath.

"Your Godfather is—Sir Francis Livioux? I've _always_ wanted to meet him."

Pansy pressed her back against the chair and brought her teacup to her lips as she took a long sip of the fragrant black tea, her cool violet eyes lifting across the table. She could have laughed if she wasn't feeling quite so satisfied already as Lucius looked from one chatty love-bird-to-be to the other with a sour grimace. He should have known better than to doubt her. She had a knack, after all, of fostering love in the unwitting.

•·················•·················•

"How d'you think it went? Splendidly, no?" Pansy grinned as she leaned against the heavy door of Parkinson estate. Lucius fixed her with a look that was simultaneously amused and clearly annoyed at having been dragged to witness her antics.

"I can hear the Fairy Bells ringing already."

His tone, his face, everything indicated his sarcasm but Pansy squealed with delight.

"I know! Ugh, young love. So _sweet._ "

"Yes, yes. Speaking of young love, Miss Parkinson," Lucius said, idly plucking at the fresh floral arrangement that adorned the centre of the foyer. He plucked a petal or two from the enormous ranunculus breed that Pansy personally had delivered from Spain. "Who will you be taking to the party tomorrow?"

Pansy swatted his hand away and, with a swish, flick, and prod of her wand, the flower began to reabsorb its fallen petals.

"You," she said, her eyes lingering on Lucius, "if you'll have me. Who else? There's no one worth flirting with, no one who can hold my attention longer than a card game."

"No pretty boys you'd like to get to know better?" Lucius asked, turning away as he focused his attention on the pointed petals of a deep-mauve dahlia.

Pansy made a noise of disgust as she intently rearranged the flowers, gaze focused as she quietly ensured perfect aesthetic cohesion between shade, tone, and height of each plant.

" _Boys._ I can't be bothered. Sufficient to the day, et cetera. No, you'll be my escort; you can keep me out of trouble."

Lucius rose a sceptical brow and the corners of his lips pulled into a smile that he forced out of view.

"Oh, alright," he said, rolling his eyes. "I'll pick you up at eight. Say, isn't your father returning from Egypt? When?"

Pansy's face fell and her hands dropped to her sides. Her shoulders heaved with a heavy sigh at the reminder. Ugh, she'd all but wiped the man from her memory. How could she have forgotten? And on the day of a party, what horrid timing!

"Cheer up, petal." Lucius brushed the fallen hair from her face before reaching to tidy his hairdo. "He's your father, whether you like it or not."

"Not much of a father of late," Pansy said, her lips curling in a sneer as she folded her arms across her chest.

Wasn't that the understatement of the century? The man had hardly been a father to her at all; he was more an entitled landlord at this point than anyone worthy of the title ' _father_ '. Seventy-four years old and still travelling from one country to another under the guise of 'collecting dark artefacts.' Those artefacts sure kept his bed warm at night, didn't they? The man had the gall to bring one or two of them home and made Pansy call them 'Miss.'

Pansy's feet clicked loudly as she stomped across the foyer and slipped onto the curved marble staircase at the end of the room. Shaking fingers slowly loosened the elegant, ribbon ankle-strap of her shoes and she kicked them off, dropping each carelessly to the floor.

Lucius remained quiet as he watched her; his lips curved into a frown when his gaze rose to see her crestfallen face. She was not her chipper, amiable self—not even close. And how could she be? Her day was ruined by the reminder.

"The Dark Lord'll surely ask for him while he's in Europe."

Pansy narrowed her eyes as she glanced up at Lucius who, despite her prior protests and despite knowing better, plucked a giant ranunculus from her vase and approached her, the large stem pinched between long, elegant fingers.

"You'll be fine, dear." Lucius prodded the petals towards her, his eyes twinkling. "You'll wear a beautiful dress, you'll have a lovely time at the party, and—" he twirled the ranunculus around his fingers, pointing the stem to Pansy as he tucked the large flower behind her ear, "you'll forget all about your _wicked_ father."

The giant, heavy flower fell immediately. It was ridiculous, _he_ was ridiculous, but she couldn't help it as her lips twitched and she burst into laughter at his silly attempt at cheering her up. Besides, he was right; she _was_ intent on having a lovely time. It was her right to enjoy pleasure where it was offered and no one—especially not her self-centred father—would ruin such an undoubtedly glamorous evening.

"I'll be here at eight," Lucius said before he pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead and headed toward the door. "Eight o'clock, alright? Not a minute late, young lady!"

Pansy's eyes followed him until he gave her a final finger-wave and the door clicked shut. She fell back onto the steps with a deep sigh.

•·················•·················•

Pansy drifted gracefully down the steps toward the foyer, her ears perked and stomach twisting at the sounds of two male voices—both she recognized, one she dreaded.

"Hello father," Pansy said as she stepped on the landing. She caught sight of Lucius, dressed to the nines in a perfectly groomed satin-wool suit and cloak, peering up at her with a smile. Pansy's father, however, merely glanced at her, clearly too preoccupied with the conversation he'd been having to give a damn about his own blood and kin.

"She's quite fit, you know, gymnast from a young age—"

Oh, _gross_. She knew the men were colleagues but did they need to pretend to be _friends_? They'd nothing in common! And to sully the mind of a proper gentleman like Lucius by talking about his little gymnast conquests—ugh! Pansy could see Lucius' discomfort in the polite smile and the way his shoulders always seem to draw forward when he was embarrassed by something.

She couldn't stand the exchange and crossed toward the decorative mirror at the end of the hall where she busied herself with reapplying another layer of a berry-hued lipstick.

Pansy had spent dutiful care to pick the proper dress: a deep amethyst gown with a slit that rode so high up her thigh that taking a steep step up a stair would certainly garner a few gasps from unwitting witnesses. She painted pristine and elegant makeup _by hand_ to accentuate her natural beauty, especially her almond-shaped eyes—which she'd taken after her mother. She even added a lifting charm for good measure that made her tits look like the curves of Venus herself.

In the reflection, she saw Lucius clap a hand on her father's shoulder.

"Well, Pedric, I'd stay and chat longer but your daughter is awaiting her chaperone."

_Yes_ , thank you, Lucius. She was _desperate_ to leave.

"I hope she hasn't been bothering you," her father said as if she wasn't nearby, able to hear everything.

"No bother at all. She's a delight; my dearest friend."

Pansy fought the urge to smile. It meant more to her than she'd ever let on; Lucius had been her primary companion for so many years. She first met him when he'd come over for business with her father, but with the death of her mother at sixteen, and the fact that her father made no effort to stay and keep Pansy company, Lucius stepped in. He'd taught her how to ride Thestrals, encouraged her budding grace, and gave her lessons on the pianoforte (though he was an abysmal player, and Pansy quickly superseded his skill—which he'd never admit). It was an odd little friendship, and Pansy wouldn't have traded it for the world.

"Ah, yes, well. She's been a bit of a handfu—"

"Won't you be cold?" Lucius said, eyes directed toward Pansy before her father could finish the thought.

In the reflection, she could see his gaze trail over her off-the-shoulder neckline then the long line of bare leg. Her father let out a barking laugh.

"Looking _healthier_ than usual, aren't you, child?"

The blood drained from Pansy's face as she turned around. Lucius stood stiffly, his eyes never leaving Pansy.

Healthier. A classy way of saying _fat_ , when you merely want to humiliate someone and not seem like a total spineless bitch. And _child?_ She was nearly twenty-four years old!

The dress which sat snugly on her form and had made her feel beautiful moments ago now felt a bit too tight. Even in three minutes, her father had ruined bloody everything. He was a man, after all, who taught Pansy that criticism was far more valuable than affection and, staying true to his philosophy, she'd been the bearer of his critique in lieu of actual love for as long as she could remember.

"Yes, she looks stunning, doesn't she?" Lucius quickly interjected. "Quite elegant; all the other ladies will be mad with jealousy!"

Pansy managed a fake smile for Lucius' sake, but her eyes had started to burn as her father's words stung harder than a thousand Whizbee stings. Lucius strode forward, his lips tightening in an apologetic smile and his brows raised in the middle in a form of sympathy she really didn't want from anyone. Especially not him; she didn't know why but it was made even worse by the fact that Lucius was here.

"You really do look lovely, dear," Lucius said, his voice a softened whisper as he closed the space between them, leaving her father to shuffle toward his study clearly without a care of what he'd done to his daughter. "Want to summon a shawl or a coat and we can leave?"

Pansy gave a soft, silent nod before summoning the thickest, largest shawl she owned to cover the parts of her that suddenly screamed with insecurity.

•·················•·················•

"Oh, hi love!" Pansy said with a wave of her fingers. She turned her head, and there was another friend of hers. "Oh, Mrs Avery you are looking stunning as usual, and, ooh, is that Gilanvieux perfume? Smells lovely!"

The fanciful soiree, planned exclusively for the birthday of Caterina Crabbe, was elegant, high-brow, and _exactly_ the sort of thing Pansy needed. It took the entirety of the carriage-ride and Lucius' reassuring words for Pansy to shackle the taunting beast of insecurity into the back of her mind. And, really, she quickly realized she had nothing to worry about.

All eyes followed her as she glided through the party. Many faces nodded and grinned at her, waving gracefully to get her attention. She'd nod or wave back, but rewarded her closest friends with a tight hug and an outpouring of compliments that warmed the cockles of their hearts. Suddenly, she was a prize to be won again; it was too bad no one here was a winner.

"Pansy!" Theo grinned from ear to ear, squeezing her in a tight hug after they'd exchanged a peck-on-each-cheek. "I was hoping I'd get to see you again, and you're here alone. What luck!"

Yes, she suddenly was; as soon as they'd stepped into the party, Lucius was quickly swept away by his very important friends to discuss _very_ important Death Eater business—blah blah blah. Her eyes drifted over the room in search of him. He was doing an awful job at being her escort.

"Oh?" Pansy laughed. "Well, here I am. Where is Daphne, is she coming?"

"Daph—? Oh, Greengrass. I've no idea. Anyway, I've been meaning to ask you," Theo continued, but Pansy spotted the silver-blond hair.   
  
Pansy's gaze narrowed and shoulders stiffened when she identified his current conversation-partner.

"And after yesterday, I feel even more confident that I should just get on with it."

Theo continued his speech as Pansy's gaze lowered into a glare at the perfectly prim Yenina Yaxley who clung with embarrassing impropriety to Lucius' arm. Wasn't she supposed to be away in France finding a husband or something?

"You are so radiant and kind—"

"Uh-huh." Pansy nodded, eyes still lingering over Theo's shoulder. Her stomach felt tight and heat rose in her chest, burning the tops of her ribs.

They'd make an ugly couple anyway. She's far too tall and thin for such a perfectly-sized man. Perhaps he needed saving and was too polite to excuse himself. Yenina was such a clinger and men seldom know how to tactfully get rid of her type.

"—and you were so attentive yesterday. I wanted to ask you, Pansy,"

The sound of her name spoken by Theo in such a tone caused her attention to drift from the chattering guests and landed back on the boy before her, his wide jade eyes staring at her with such open earnestness it made her want to curl away. Theo sucked in a breath and Pansy suddenly fought the urge to cover his mouth with her hand to prevent him from speaking further.

"I was wondering, dear Pansy, if I may court you."

Er...

"Er—" Pansy was aware that her mouth was opening and closing, but words escaped her.

_Court_ her? _Theo?_

"How many drinks have you had, Theo?"

Theo blinked and glanced down at his half-drunk glass of white wine.

"What about _Daphne_?" Pansy reminded, her lips curling as though ready to burst into a peal of forgiving laughter and move on from this whole mess of a conversation.

"What about her? She's a nice girl, but—"

Pansy let out a sharp exhale as Theo's tone continued to prove too serious for her.

"Theo—" she held out her hand to stop whatever nonsense he was about to spew, "—I'm so sorry, but I think you've got the wrong idea. It's not _me_ you want."

"It very much is, Pansy," Theo said, his tone confident but eyes searching her shocked features. Theo's eyes widened and he sucked in a breath. "Oh. Your heart is already taken. I should have known. I thought Lucius was just a friend but—"

" _Lucius?_ We're not—I—" Pansy shook her head. Words fled her; it was too hard to verbalize amidst this completely avoidable confusion. "Theo, I'm so sorry, but you're mistaken. It's _Daphne Greengrass_ that's best suited for you—not me. Please excuse me."

Pansy slipped away, her mind hardly able to process Theo's unwarranted confession as she made a beeline toward the glimmering silver-blond hair. She stopped on the balls of her feet, fixed Yenina with a polite but apologetic smile that Pansy knew didn't reach her eyes, and tugged Lucius away from the conversation he was undoubtedly bored of.

"You can do so much better," Pansy said, with a jerk of her neck which caused her long-bob to flip over her shoulder. She tugged his arm, leading them both toward the quiet balcony.

"She's very accomplished—"

"Ha."

If leeching men for money was an accomplishment, then yes, Yenina was a record-breaker.

"What's wrong with you?" Lucius brows narrowed at Pansy's visibly warmed cheeks.

"Nott."

"Not?"

"Theodore Nott. He thinks I like him—" She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "He thinks _I_ want him."

Lucius' gaze flickered between her eyes for a beat and then, to Pansy's dismay and open irritation, he threw his head back and burst out in laughter.

"What did I say?" Lucius wiped a fallen tear from his eyes. "What did I say about —"

"I _know_ , I know." Pansy rolled her eyes. " _Meddling._ "

•·················•·················•

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a review or kudos if you are enjoying this. :)


	2. To understand, thoroughly understand her own heart, was the first endeavor.

•·················•·················•  
  


"Fine. If you won't drink, I dare you to let me take off your knickers from under your dress—with my _teeth_."

Daphne gaped at the words and Pansy raised a brow. The game was finally taking a turn for the saucy, just how she liked it.

"Blaise, you opportunistic little perv," Pansy said, her smirk not quite matching her admonishing tone.

She tossed back her fourth ounce of absinthe. Though normally meant for sipping, the night was young and she still had a few too many inhibitions intact. This was just the ticket to lift her spirits from an arduous day of drama: endless drinks, happy friends, and a naughty game of Veritaserum or Dare in the quiet Crabbe drawing-room.

Pansy would have peeked at Theo's reaction of Daphne having to bare her legs (and more) for Blaise, but the boy had rudely made his affections for her known in such an embarrassing manner. She didn't dare risk a glance at him. What if he was looking at her—affectionately? Pansy shuddered and poured herself another.

Daphne blushed, but her smile was indication enough that she was going through with it. Daphne lay back on the lush middle-eastern rug while Blaise, with a sinful grin of his own, tossed the bottom of her gown over his head.

"This is why I never wear knickers," Pansy said under her breath before cheersing Annabelle Avery's still-too-full glass of Moscato.

After a few long, boring moments and several squeals from Daphne, Blaise returned from his little dive with pink knickers dangling from his smug grin.

"Your turn, Daph." Gregory Goyle jutted his head toward Daphne who rose, her face bright as a ripe strawberry.

"Em, whew—I should have been warned about this game."

"Where's the fun in that?" Draco smirked. _Too true._

"Fine then, _Draco_." Daphne lifted a brow. "Veritaserum or Dare?"

"Give me the V," Draco said, reaching for the bottle of not-quite-pure Veritaserum that was brewed specifically to last one question—perfect for a tease of truth.

"Who, in this room, do you want a _taste_ of most?"

"Everyone," Gregory said with a laugh.

Draco's smirk deepened as he downed the shot of Veritaserum.

Draco's gaze trailed over the members of the circle. He didn't linger too long on Gregory, Blaise, or Anabelle. He seemed to consider Daphne for a moment—her innocence alone would warrant Draco's appeal—but he moved on from her too. He didn't even glance at Theo before his grey gaze landed on her.

She quirked a brow.

" _Really?_ "

"Yup. It's gotta be you, Pans."

"Well, then."

Well, she certainly didn't expect _that_. Though Pansy was close to Lucius, she hardly had a relationship with Draco. He always seemed more like a taunting brother who'd want to smear dirt in her hair than a sophisticated man she could learn from. Lucius did nothing to encourage their relationship; no, he almost preferred to keep her from Draco. She presumed it was because the boy was a bit of an arrogant deviant, and Pansy would—to put it lightly—eat him alive.

"It's your turn," Pansy said, bringing her fifth—sixth?—glass of absinthe to her lips, but she froze as another Malfoy entered the room: Malfoy Sr.

Lucius strode in, a faint smirk on his lips as he took in the circle of youth who were clearly too drunk to cause anything but trouble. She almost wanted to warn him that he, prudish, proper, paternal Lucius, would likely _not_ enjoy seeing this game in action. But, like Draco said, where was the fun in that?

"Pansy." Draco's eyes never lifted from hers. "Veritaserum or Dare?"

"Let's hear your dare, Malfoy. Make it good."

Some of the Slytherins snickered at her challenging tone, and Draco—pink-faced from having one too many cocktails—broke into a grin.

"I think it's time for my taste." Draco patted his lower lip with his index finger.

"Shocking," Pansy said, rolling her eyes.

Pansy crawled toward him. She could feel the eyes on her swaying full hips and the deep line of cleavage that was on display. Lucius shuffled against the doorframe. She couldn't figure out why, but the weight of Lucius' gaze on her made her feel uncomfortable as she moved on all fours toward Draco.

Draco was quite handsome, with his light hair, piercing grey eyes, and perpetual smirk of amusement that reminded her so much of Lucius. His excitement dimmed some of the appeal; the youthful, demanding impatience wasn't quite as _mature_ as she'd like. Not like Lu—Pansy flushed.

Gods, she'd had quite a few too many drinks, hadn't she?

She could taste the anise in her throat, mixed with bile that rose from her stomach at the prospect of kissing Draco Malfoy. Suddenly, it all felt perverse.

Draco's lids had fallen heavy and his pointed chin jutted out, lips ready to meet hers. The thought suddenly made her stomach hurt. She didn't _want_ him like that. Pansy ran her fingers over his jaw before she playfully slapped his cheek, enough to stir him from his lustful reverie.

"Perhaps another day, Drakie." Pansy said, averting her gaze as she turned to pour a shot of Veritaserum. She downed it, ignoring the laughter of her friends, the deepening redness of Draco's face, and the lingering pair of eyes from the doorway. "Veritaserum, please."

Draco raked a hand through his hair.

"Fine. Veritaserum, then," he said, his eyes narrowed and lips pressed in a tight line. His gaze dropped to the empty shot glass next to her, and he suddenly glanced up with a wicked smirk. "Alright, then, Parkinson. What's your deepest, darkest sexual fantasy?"

•·················•·················•

The world was a blur. The glittering lights, sparkling jewels, swirl of people all melted together as Pansy stumbled through the party looking for her accomplice and chaperone.

"Lucius!" Her dazed eyes scanned for the elegant hair, the tall stature, the graceful, masculine poise as her legs led her in and out of rooms while she called for him.

"Lu—" A pair of strong arms caught her before she flung herself face-first into a large potted plant in the corner of the entry hall.

"Good grief, woman, you're _sloshed!_ "

Lucius' fingers on her shoulders felt tight but a blissfully warm flood of relief washed over her as she made out his blurry features.

"Hi!" Pansy grinned as her head lolled backwards. "Take me home."

"Mm, yes, I think you're well over-do for some sleep, let me get my cloak and your shawl—"

"Ah, Lucius!"

The words nearly punctured Pansy's eardrums as they boomed in her inebriated head. Lucius, having barely leaned Pansy against a wall, turned and smiled at Finley Crabbe, an ostentatious man with a walrus moustache that didn't flatter him in the least.

"Oh, Finley! We are just heading out. Was about to find you—thank you for hosting such a delightful…"

Pansy tuned out the excessively polite conversation from her brain. For all the dabbling in Dark Arts, it was astounding how _proper_ they were, even to the point of tedium. She rubbed her forehead and let out a sigh. Gods, she was so sodding drunk. Thoughts barely made it through her mind, but one thing remained: an underlying sense of dread that made her stomach churn as memories flitted across her dazed mind.

She didn't know how much of her sordid fantasy Lucius had heard. When she'd finished the entirety of her deviant little dream (which she'd only fantasized a few times; how could it have been her _deepest_ , _darkest fantasy_?), she'd glanced up to find the doorway empty and Lucius gone. The thought of it now made her want to crawl into the potted plant and shrivel like a leaf.

"And what about you—any future prospects for the next Mrs Malfoy?"

Pansy's ears perked. She could tell by Lucius' laughter, he was half-embarrassed at the question. Perhaps they weren't as polite as she thought, though perhaps it was normal for Lucius to have deserved these types of questions; he'd been a widower for over fifteen years.

"None yet, no."

"I saw you chatting up Yenina Yaxley earlier. She's quite a hot little thing, isn't she—"

"Lucius doesn't need a wife," Pansy said, her words tumbling out of her mouth as her feet stumbled forward. She gripped Lucius' shoulder for balance. "He's busy enough with me."

Both men stared at her with wide-eyed. Lucius' mouth had fallen agape, and she could see the faint pink rising to his cheeks.

"I mean, just that—" Pansy was rapidly realizing the words she'd just spoken. She let out a forced laugh, eyes flitting from one confused face to another, "he's just so kind, you see, to take care of poor, lowly orphans such as myself—he doesn't _need_ a wife!"

Lucius gave a stiff smile that reached nowhere near his eyes.

"Forgive us, Finley, she's enjoyed your bar a bit too much, and we're just getting her home."

Finley nodded and before Pansy could spew another incriminating word, Lucius dragged her out of the party.

•·················•·················•

"This isn't my room." Pansy stumbled in regardless and fell face-first into the bed.

"You just noticed that? We aren't even at your house, woman. Gods, how did you get so bloody out of control?"

She could hear his disapproving tone, but couldn't find it in herself to care. Sleep gently beckoned her. Everything still spun, even with her eyes closed.

Several moments later, she felt forceful fingers prying her mouth open and a warm fluid was dripping down her throat. She nearly choked as she woke up to the taste of it—sweet, but oddly metallic.

" _Drink,_ come on."

She obeyed the familiar voice, her eyes still shut and head pounding as she swallowed.

It was gradual, but the world slowed its spinning and Pansy's nausea eventually dissipated. As the drunken stupor slowly lifted, she recognized the taste as Sober-Up Solution. Lucius withdrew as Pansy lifted her hands to rub her eyes.

"Oh, _no_ , my makeup!" she said, glancing down at her hands. They were clean.

"I already removed it. The house-elves changed you."

They had. Pansy peered down at the dark-green pyjamas that were far too big for her but were comfy just the same. On the breast-pocket, she saw the words LM engraved in silver.

"I'm at your house?"

"Are you finally lucid?" Lucius ignored her and strode to sit on the plush seat a few feet across in the corner of the room. Pansy's tired eyes slowly drifted to him and she lifted her head as she noticed the tension in his lips and the deep furrow of his brow.

"What's wrong?"

"You—you're joking. You just embarrassed yourself in front of the host of the party after sharing all your sordid fantasies in front of a group of your peers, oh, and you nearly kissed my son—"

"So?"

"So. _Really._ "

"What's wrong if I kissed Draco? You've never expressed any opposition to it; wouldn't you like to have me in your family?"

Lucius' jaw clicked, and his gaze darkened before it fell away. He rose to his feet, pacing back and forth at the foot of her bed as his eyes remained on the floor. Pansy pulled herself into a seated position, clutching a pillow to her chest.

"That's not what I'm saying." His jaw was jutting out. "Did you really need to make yourself look like a complete mess in front of a friend of mine?"

"A _complete mess_?"

"You called yourself an orphan, Pansy. An orphan! Your father is not dead. He was _at the party_ —how does that make your family look?"

Pansy's fingers twitched as she felt the sudden urge to cover her ears and bury her face into the pillow.

"Pansy Parkinson casting her father as _dead_ in front of his colleague. Gods, woman, you were drunk and humiliated yourself—and me."

"How did I humiliate _you?_ "

Lucius' eyes rose to land on her, his expression hardened.

"You think I only spend time with you because I feel sorry for you? What am I to you, a caretaker?"

"No, of course not—"

"And then to witness you making a fool of yourself in front of your friends—" Lucius pointed a finger in her direction.

Heat flared in her face and chest. "Excuse me, that's not fair! You're off your game, old man, just because you heard me mention I want to be fucked—"

Lucius let out a sharp hiss at the words. "That's not all I heard."

Pansy's muscles tensed and she fought the sudden urge to squirm. "Wh-what else—what else did you hear?"

Lucius stood frozen. She could see the tension in the corner of his lips. She flinched as he suddenly let out a bark of a laugh before he buried his face in his hands and rubbed his eyes and forehead.

"Gods." He moaned into his hands. "Oh, Pansy…"

"Tell me," Pansy said, her fingers showing white on the pillow as a mixture of terror and humiliation bred in her core and sprouted in clammy waves.

"You can't remember?" His hands fell, and he stared at her intently before directing his gaze firmly towards the window. "Were you drunk then too? Extraordinary. You don't recall telling your old-classmates that you'd want nothing more than to be taken to the bedroom of an 'established older gentleman,' bound to his bed-posts, _spanked_ and _beaten_ for being a - and I quote - ' _filthy little girl'_ and then fucked till you forget your name?"

"Oh my God." This time Pansy _did_ bury her face into the pillow.

"I managed to leave when you started talking about how you'd want your bum li—"

"Stop!"

"At least I stayed long enough to hear what I did because—had I not known how _aroused_ you'd get—I likely _would_ have thrown you over my knee for your behaviour tonight."

" _Lucius!_ "

Pansy squealed as she threw herself into the bed and reached for another pillow to cover her whole head. The clammy waves of shivers made her skin feel raw while her stomach twisted and coiled, as though attempting to crawl out of her. Oh God, she could die from the humiliation of her own actions. Stupid, stupid!

She had only a minute or so of sitting, sunk in abject despair, before she felt a gentle warmth on the small of her back. It lingered there, burning into her skin with its familiar touch.

"Pans." His tone was much softer.

He reached to pull at the pillow which was failing miserably at suffocating her despite her resolve to die rather than live with this shame. She tugged back but relented when Lucius repeated her name, this time with a bit more force.

"Look at me," Lucius said, his palm pressing down on her back and giving her a small rub.

Pansy swallowed and gently turned onto her side, glancing up at him—still dressed in his party attire and peering down at her with a softened expression that made Pansy want to curl up into him for a—she insisted, very _platonic_ —hug.

"You're not an orphan."

"I know—"

"You have people that care about you very much. Who are happy to take care of you and who really love your company."

Heat rose to Pansy's cheeks and sunk in her throat. Her eyes stung and her lower lip started to tremble. She couldn't stand looking at him any longer and squeezed her eyes shut.

"There's no need to pity yourself, Pans. You're very much loved."

She fought against it. She tried to swallow the knot and the heat, but despite her resolve, the tears still flooded her eyes and fell, hot and heavy, onto the pillow. His words, the gentleness with which he spoke them, the sincerity of his tone, and...

It was all so much.

Pansy didn't try to stop him or pull away as Lucius gathered her in a hug and held her as she sobbed openly in his arms. His fingers curled into her hair and scratched soothingly in her scalp while his other hand gently rubbed circles on her back. All the pain of the last several years seemed to culminate in a moment of open vulnerability she'd fought so hard against. She hated that she'd lost it like this in front of him; Pansy preferred her feelings felt in the safety of solitude—but she couldn't deny the comfort and warmth he made her feel as he cradled her against him.

Perhaps it was the rush of emotion, or the exhaustion of the day, or even the warmth of Lucius' embrace that lulled Pansy into sleep in his arms, but as Lucius gently manoeuvred her under the blankets and tucked her in, she couldn't help feel anything but safe. Perhaps that was why, when, in the midst of her sleep, as Lucius gently brushed his lips against her forehead, Pansy lifted her chin for something _else_.

But he was gone. The lights were out, and so was Pansy.

•·················•·················•


	3. I cannot make speeches.

•·················•·················•

Pansy Parkinson was near tears as she stared at the empty fireplace. She didn't care that her fingers were starting to stain green from the Floo powder she was tightly clutching in her hand. All she seemed to dwell on was the fact that, despite being otherwise entirely ready to leave her house, Pansy had no bloody clue where she was going.

She ran through the docket of potential friends—their mothers, even their fathers. The entire Pureblood list in bloody England! Still, she couldn't figure out who to grace with her presence. Her soul shrivelled with each passing moment that she was home, listening to her father order her around and criticise her, as was the usual order of things when he was home.

To say that she didn't know _where_ she wanted to go was, put simply, bollocks. Pansy knew _exactly_ where she wanted to go, but—Pansy let out a huff as she stared at the floor—she hadn't seen Lucius in days. Since the party, in fact. But, Gods, she wanted to storm into Malfoy Manor and give Lucius a piece of her mind. How dare he disappear on her? Under the pretence of _work_?

The man seldom worked! Save for the business of his estate and the sodding tasks the Dark Lord gave him to ensure proper power division blah blah blah. Boring. Dumb. Where the _fuck_ was he?

Pansy tapped her foot, her eyes settling on the side of the Floo he'd usually stand when he'd chaperone her on their silly little trips that meant the whole world to her.

"Fuck it."

Pansy's lips curled in a sneer. She took a step forward and her needle-point heel clacked on the marble ground as she stepped into the fireplace. With a rough fling of her wrist, the Floo Powder showered the floor around her and green flames erupted—not unlike the flames of her wrath as she said the name.

"Malfoy Manor."

•·················•·················•

What a stupid idea.

Pansy let out a sigh as she paced the white-and-grey marble corridor waiting for Lucius' study door to open. He was apparently busy with _business_ and she, like an idiot, decided to just—pop in?

What reason was she going to give him for her decision to drop by?

' _You've been neglecting me, and I hate it?'_

He wasn't her husband. He wasn't her boyfriend. He was just a friend, and he was— _apparently_ —busy.

The door of his study creaked open and Pansy let out a shaky exhale as she straightened her spine.

Except— _oh fuck_.

All blood drained from her already white face when she saw it: the blonde. The curves. The little black dress that did nothing to hide the hard nipples that jutted out so crudely underneath it. Ugh! Yenina _fucking_ Yaxley stepped toward the opening doors with a smile that made her already pinched face look like she'd sucked on a lemon. That better have been all she'd sucked. Ugh.

"I'll be sure to let him know, thanks, Lucius! I'll owl you his respon—Goodness, so sorry!" Yenina swerved away from Pansy who made no effort to get out of her way. "Oh Pansy, dear, hi!"

Pansy blinked. She was normally so talented at fake-liking people.

"Pansy?" Lucius' voice rang from inside the study.

Pansy's stomach tightened as she glanced up to see him half-standing over his desk and peering into the corridor. She ignored the curious look Yenina gave as Pansy strode toward the study and shut the door behind her.

"You're here," Lucius said as he rose to his feet. His reading glasses were perched low on his pointed nose, and he had a smile on his lips that made Pansy's heart rise to her throat.

"I—I'm an idiot, I shouldn't have popped in—I didn't realize you were with—"

"Business has been mad," Lucius said.

"Yes, busines—"

"I was actually hoping to pop by after my last meeting—"

"I underst—oh."

"Thought you'd be open to accompanying me to Delvino's." Lucius placed his glasses on his desk and rounded the desk, approaching a rather stunned Pansy. "The peacocks snagged one of my loafers and I'm in desperate need of a new pair. How does that sound? Sixish? I'll come get you."

"Er—"

Well, that was unexpected.

He _wasn't_ avoiding her? Still, if there's one thing her mother taught her, it was that a Parkinson is never openly available for anyone. Even if their excuse was "work." What a stupid reason. He'd have to redeem himself for making her feel silly.

"I'll check my schedule when I get home and owl you."

"Great," Lucius said, "perfect."

Lucius' smile was still on his face. It made Pansy want to look away, but she stood frozen. She opened her mouth and shut it, her face suddenly warm.

"Right."

Pansy swung on her heel and practically ran out of the study. Her heart seemed to pound louder than her clattering shoes as she flew toward the fireplace.

"Pansy?"

She halted, heels scraping against marble, as she heard her name spoken. She turned.

Icy hair, athletic form, callow sense of entitlement.

"Oh, hi Draco."

"Whatcha doin' here, Parkinson?" Draco said, with an amused tilt of his head.

"Leaving."

There was no real reason to explain any of this to Draco; he was too preoccupied with his own silly interests to care. As she tried to grab a handful of Floo Powder, Draco swiftly stole the crystal bowl and placed it on the windowsill behind him. Pansy rolled her eyes at his irritatingly boyish attempt to keep her hostage. He had no idea how close he was to being backhanded and left with an indentation of her marquise-cut emerald ring on his jaw.

"No, really," Draco said, his smile deepening. "Business with father? You wouldn't be the first."

Pansy blinked, her throat tightening at his words. "Floo, please. I want to go home."

"Listen, Pans, about the party—"

"It's fine."

Pansy waved her hand as if brushing away the topic of him confessing his interest in her altogether. What was it about her that was attracting all these sad little boys?

"I've never really spanked a girl before, but I'd be open to making your dreams come true."

"Oh my God." Pansy rolled her eyes so hard she nearly fell backwards. How could she have thought he was anything but a little prat? "Floo Powder. Now, Draco."

The infamous smirk was back. Arrogance oozed from his every pore and it made Pansy nauseous.

" _Now_ , Draco."

"Fiiine. There's normally a toll for coming and going."

Draco shoved the bowl toward her and she took a massive handful.

"Bye, Draco."

"Maybe next time, Parkinson."

"Fuck off. Parkinson Estate!"

•·················•·················•

Despite Lucius' promise of arriving "sixish", the house-elves alerted her of his arrival at six o'clock on the dot. A moment later he knocked on her door and stepped in. He'd let his hair down, out of the usual low ponytail he'd keep his long silver locks in during the day. It glimmered under the setting-sunlight of her bedroom where he found her laying on her bed, staring up at the ceiling.

"Ready?"

"Yep," Pansy said.

Despite it being a rare event for Pansy to don less than two outfits a day, she hadn't changed out of her slim black jeans and near-sheer burgundy top. She didn't know why, but she couldn't be bothered to rise from the haven of her bed.

Perhaps she was dealing with the silly thing that plagued muggles: depreshun? Regardless, it appeared circumstantial, quickly evaporated once they stepped onto the high-end of Knockturn Alley and all the glistening windows called to her. She could've laughed at herself, moping over her life when all she _really_ needed was a hefty dose of retail treatment.

Delvino's was their first stop, but it was hardly their last as the awkwardness that lingered from the night of the party melted and gave way to their natural dynamic: sophisticated friends with strong opinions on fashion, society, money, and people. Gods, she was grateful to have it back.

"Oh my God, am I dead? Lucius?"

"Hm?"

"Have I died and gone to heaven? Look at that fucking _stunning_ corset. Please— _please_."

Lucius shrugged his usual why-the-hell-not shrug as she dragged him by the wrist into Corsets by Cosette where Pansy picked four separate items to try on. She could just envision the way her silhouette would curve with the help of something like this. Her father would swallow his words when she showed up with a tiny little waist and the confidence of a—well, a Draco.

"Sodding hell," Pansy said. The wind was sucked out of her lungs as she strained to reach her wand back, desperately fighting to lace the rigid garment.

"Everything okay in there?" Lucius said from beyond the curtain.

"Ugh, fuck—I need help."

"Are you decent?"

"Yes, Lucius, I'm decent." Pansy rolled her eyes. It's only an _undergarment_ store.

Pansy could see his long fingers poke past the curtain as he gently tugged enough to let himself into the fitting room.

"Oh— _wow_."

Pansy's eyes landed on him in the mirror. Heat and colour swept across her face when she noticed his gaze lingering on her chest where the corset hugged tightest. It forced quite a dramatic curve of her breasts, transforming them into half-globes of silken, alabaster skin. Lucius quickly cleared his throat and glanced away, eyes lifting to her face where he found her pink-cheeked and swallowing the sudden lump in her throat.

"What—d'you need help with?"

"Em, it needs to be tighter at the bottom," Pansy said, gripping the sides of the corset and ignoring the way Lucius' eyebrows rose at the word 'tighter'. "Just tug on the laces and—"

"Yes, I know how to lace a corset, dear. I _was_ married once."

Lucius gripped both laces in his hands and tugged. The bones didn't budge.

"Maybe it's not for me," she said with a sigh, her eyes trailing over her figure. Suddenly she could see all her flaws. The way her skin seemed almost sallow in the light, how her hips were so goddamn big for her frame, yet her tits were nothing in comparison. Maybe her body wasn't meant to wear something like this—something quite so _sensual,_ for elegant young ladies.

"No, I'm just being too soft," Lucius said, twisting his hand to capture one string around his wrist.

His other hand slipped to the dip of her waist. Suddenly, Pansy couldn't breathe.

Was the corset already tight?

Or…

Heat blossomed through her, drifting down her stomach and settling in her core. His skin burned where he touched her, even with the thick layer of fabric and metal bones between them.

"Hold still," Lucius said, eyes flicking to hers with a quiet warning as he gripped her waist even tighter.

Pansy searched for something to hold on to. She couldn't tell if he was being dramatic or if the process of wearing this anachronistic garment was such an ordeal, but as he tugged on the strings, Pansy realized she was _not_ ready.

The corset squeezed around her, but the force of his pull yanked her backwards. In an attempt to correct the imminent fall, Pansy's shoulders veered forward until both she and Lucius were flung toward the mirrored wall in a dramatic flurry. She caught herself before her face nearly collided with the mirror. She could see her reflection: the thin sheen of sweat on her brow, her almost-corseted body, and Lucius behind her— _against_ her.

His whole body pressed into hers. She could feel his hot breath against her neck as his chin rested against her shoulder. The heat of his body—his torso, thighs, everything—pressed against her and made it hard to breathe. The hand that had clutched at her waist remained unmoving, tethering them at yet another point of contact that she could feel all the way to her core.

His other hand pressed against the mirror next to hers. If he wanted, he could reach out his thumb and caress the flesh of her wrist.

Words, thoughts, everything remained frozen as their gaze met.

Pansy sucked in a sharp breath when Lucius released his grip on her waist. Yet, instead of withdrawing, instead of pulling away from her, his touch remained as he drew a burning line toward her navel. It rested there, holding her against him.

Pansy's heart was pounding in her ears. She could feel the hot puffs of air on the nape of her neck which transformed into shivers that swept through her sensitive body and charted their course south as if they knew _exactly_ where to go. She wanted to let her head fall back against his shoulders, surrendering to the moment that made her feel both safe and petrified.

"Lucius…"

Her skin felt raw as if at any moment a thousand goose-pimples could erupt on her flesh from his mere breath. There was something in the way he looked at her, his heavy-lidded eyes dark as they drifted over her; they made Pansy feel alight with a certain desire she'd only considered in her deep dreams and quiet fantasies, in the safe darkness of night.

His gaze seared into hers and, with a slow movement, Lucius dipped his head. His lips brushed against the supple bare flesh of her neck, pressing the softest kiss that made her whole body want to melt for him. Lucius pressed another, firmer this time, without the guise of sweetness or innocence as his lips met her hot skin, searing her like a wildfire that charted its course to the pit of her stomach.

Pansy didn't know if the hunger she sensed was his or her own, but it made her desperate for more. Her breath came out as a sigh, then a whimper as Lucius pushed off his palm and rose to his feet.

His gaze did not meet hers again as he silently loosened the lace from her corset and slipped out of the fitting room without another word.

•·················•·················•

"Let's go for a walk, dove," Lucius said as Pansy stepped out of the store. He stood stiffly, and his gaze didn't meet hers.

It immediately gave her a stomach-ache.

Gods, what happened? What was—that, in there? Nerves were all she felt. Anxiety and unease as he stood two feet too far and regarded her stiffly. He didn't even offer his arm, which he'd always do when they walked down the street. What was to come of their relationship that she so fiercely cherished and protected? Had they… had they ruined it?

Pansy's heart thundered in her chest as they approached a park at the north end of the street. Nausea stabbed her insides and she wanted to toss off her kitten heels and make a run for it in any direction in a desperate attempt to turn back the clock, return to their normalcy.

"I've been meaning to talk to you," Lucius started as they stepped onto the grass.

She could feel the give of the soft earth under her feet. She tried to focus on that, rather than the way her stomach was twisting into a knot.

"About your future."

"Future?"

Her _future?_ Pansy shot him a glance. She stiffened when she saw his face, equally nervous and pale as a ghost as his free hand fumbled with the chain of his pocket watch. What about her—

_Oh._

Draco.

Damn the boy, he'd probably told Lucius his intent to "get to know" Pansy a bit better. Surely, it was no secret that Draco's way of getting to know anything better was under the cover of bedsheets. Surely Lucius would know she was _not_ interested in Draco.

Lucius turned to face her, his hands lifting to gently cup her shoulders and he looked her straight-on. Pansy could look anywhere but. She let her gaze flitter nervously from the pristinely manicured grass to the bubbling fountain feet away. It could've elicited a feeling or two of relaxation if she wasn't in the midst of her friendship falling to pieces.

"I've struggled with whether I should say this. I only hesitated because I thought it might harm what we have—"

"Then don't." The words flew out. "It's not worth discussing."

 _He's_ not worth discussing, she wanted to say, but she couldn't be quite so callous about Lucius' only child. Yet it was true, she didn't care about Draco's feelings for her—if they even were that. Lust wasn't feelings.

Lucius' hands fell to his side and he stood frozen for a minute.

"Oh."

He took a step back and raked a shaking hand through his hair.

"I'm sorry, Lucius."

"No, no, you don't need to be sorry, it's—silly." He waved his hand and forced an embarrassed smile as his gaze fell. "I shouldn't have brought it up."

"It's just," Pansy started, letting out a heavy puff of air. "I don't see Draco that way. I know he's your son, but he's just a boy—"

" _Draco?_ "

"It's hardly worth discussing, honestly."

Lucius blinked then shook his head. "I'm not talking about Draco."

"Oh? But—"

If not Draco, then…

Slinking Salazar—was it _Yenina_? Was Pansy wrong about the weight of their relationship? Oh, no. No, no. Oh dear God, was he trying to share his feelings for that— _awful_ woman?

"Fuck," Pansy said, the word a mere breath.

The poor man looked tortured over it. And she was just shutting him up because she couldn't bear—ugh. It hurt to even think about him settling for such a bony, opportunistic woman. But he looked so tormented; she couldn't stand it.

"If—" She swallowed the sudden nausea that roiled through her. "If you have anything you want to share, I-I'm ready to be your friend and support you—"

Before Pansy could finish the thought, she felt two palms on her cheeks. She blinked in confusion and could feel her lips puffing out as Lucius held her still.

"Hush," Lucius said, holding her in his gaze, "I don't want to be your friend."

 _Oof._ That stung more than she cared to admit. She didn't realize quite how much damage she'd done, with her misbehaviour at the party, the reckless flirting with his son, and now her inability to be even a single source of comfort to her dear friend. Her longest friend. The man who had taken care of her for years when she had no one. Her vision grew blurry, pain mixing with heat in her cheeks.

"I want to be so much more than that, Pans."

Pansy sucked in a breath, her eyes growing wide.

"You know me better than anyone, Pansy—you sweet, sharp minx of a woman. I was foolish; I tried to convince myself I only want to _protect_ you and care for you, but—I want so much more of you."

Twin tears fell from her eyes, but she dared not look away as Lucius grazed her jaw with the back of his hand.

"I was blind. I bossed you around, chastised you, and you—" Lucius chuckled, "—you gave it right back, didn't you? You've become such a vision of radiance that I can't," he sucked in a breath and shook his head, "I can't escape you, Pansy. I'm in love with you. I've tried. I've tried to control my feelings but—but they've only grown stronger. And now," Lucius' hand slipped into her hair as his eyes swept over her features, visibly earnest in their search. "I want nothing but you, darling. I can't stop wanting you."

"Lucius," Pansy breathed the name.

The word came out broken in a quivering breath; there was no room in her body for air—just _feeling_. Her head spun, her heart ached, and everything in her body was buzzing.

"Yes, my darling. Please, please tell me if I have even the slightest chance of winning your heart."

His grey eyes were expectant on her, studying her every feature as if searching for a clue of her thoughts. Pansy couldn’t explain how right it felt. The pure certainty that everything in her world seemed to point to him. Her heart beat for the man. She’d descended into a spiral of chaos when he, for the briefest moment, wasn’t hers. His words had seared into her, and his touch—a touch which felt innocent for so long now felt so different, like it was something personal _—hers_. It made her want nothing more than to give him everything he wanted, and more. To Lucius, her Lucius. 

Of course.

 _Of course_ , it was him.

It was slow, but it was there: the small nod as Pansy's mind found her body and every part of her agreed.

Without additional explanation, Pansy stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his neck before her lips sought his.

His body softened against hers, one arm wrapping around her waist while the other cradled her head. They connected at every point, not just where lip met lip, but their hearts which beat to the same tune for so many years finally collided. It was tempting to kick herself for not seeking him like this sooner, for his love did something to her that made her whole body spring like a wildfire. He left a trail of searing sparks as his lips drifted toward her neck, planting kisses and whispering her name in a way she'd never heard it said.

They remained like this: touching, kissing. They'd spent years understanding each other's minds, learning each other's flaws, and loving one another despite them, but it was in the little touches, the sweet sighs, and sounds of lip against skin that unlocked a part of their friendship that neither had anticipated, though they yearned for it all along.

So they kissed and remained kissing, for what good were words when speaking the language of the heart?

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed, please leave a comment. They are the greatest gifts!


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